


He Has a Stump

by winterschild



Series: He Has A Stump Start and Beyond [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Amputee Bucky Barnes, Angst, Artist Steve Rogers, Basically Steve yells at amputee Bucky, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Neighbors, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, War Veteran Bucky Barnes, War Veteran Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2016-05-31
Packaged: 2018-07-11 07:08:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7035052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterschild/pseuds/winterschild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I thought you were taking advantage of a woman by making her do all of your lawn work because I've seen you and you're fit and really muscular, but it turns out the girl was your sister and I called you out before I knew you were an amputee." AU</p><p>Basically we watched Steve embarrass himself because he has a big mouth and we all laugh</p>
            </blockquote>





	He Has a Stump

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all for the response to my last one-shot. Read the end notes to make suggestions please. :)

She was there again; the small girl who couldn’t be more than 20 years old was back for the fourth time this week doing yard work for his neighbor, who Steve had only seen once, but knew for a fact that the guy was fit.

In the course of the past eight days, the woman had planted flowers, pulled weeds, laid down mulch (which she carried from the car herself), repainted the chipped fence, and power-washed the man’s car. Now, all of this would’ve gone unnoticed by Steve Rogers if it weren’t for that fact that he had not seen his neighbor help the girl once, even though he has been home every single time.

Steve attempted to mind his own business--he had done his own fair-share of helping out his elderly neighbors as a kid in Brooklyn. That fact also meant that the 28-year-old man knew what it felt like to do manual labor, like cutting the grass with a push mower, in 90 degree weather.

At this point, Steve had determined that his neighbor, whom he knows nothing about but the fact that he wasn’t too much older than Steve himself, was taking advantage of this girl’s kindness and that it was pissing Steve off.

“I’m telling you, Nat, he is definitely taking advantage of this poor girl,” Steve complained to his best friend. Steve continued to vigorously type out his email while watching the brunette working outside his window. It was too hot to be cutting grass.

Nat chuckled on the other end, “And you’re 100% sure that he doesn’t need the assistance of her or that she’s on the lease?”

Steve opened his mouth to respond, but he struggled to find the right words to say because, honestly, he had no idea. “Well, not necessarily.”

“Do you even know your neighbor?” Natasha asked amusingly. Of course Steve knew his neighbor--he had large muscles.

“I do!” Steve defended, slightly fibbing. “I have seen him before and he definitely lives alone. I also know that he’s incredibly in-shape and muscular.”

“Of course you noticed that.” Steve could practically feel the redhead roll her eyes through the phone, “That doesn't mean he doesn’t need the help, Rogers.”

“But I’ve seen him do it before, Natasha! He’s not being fair to the kid,” Steve argued, still annoyed by her lack of caring. Sam would say the same thing.

Distracted from his conversation, he saw the girl struggling to lift the bags of yard shreds to the edge of the driveway. Those things must weigh a ton, considering the grass was still wet from the rain yesterday.

Steve sighed before Natasha could continue speaking, “Shit, Nat. I gotta go.”

“Don’t do anything stupid, Rogers,” she instructed before hanging up her end of the line.

Steve stood from his desk when he saw the girl collapse from the weight of bag she was holding. Okay. That was the last straw.

The large blond man stepped out of his office and to his front door to find the lady attempting to pick herself off the ground. Steve quickly made his way to her side, gently grabbing her elbow.

Icy blue eyes caught his baby blues and a kind smile made it’s way onto her lips. “Thank you so much,” she offered, dusting her hands on her jeans.

“It’s not a bother; I saw you fall. I’m Steve,” he stuck his hand out, shaking her small one is his.

“Rebecca,” she replied, shaking his hand back. “Man, I think I finally wore myself out.”

“You live here? I’ve never seen you around,” Steve mentioned, knowing the answer but wanting to tread before accusing.

Rebecca’s face lit up and she laughed, “Oh, no. No, definitely not. I live in Brooklyn. James is the one who lives here.”

“What’re doing in Washington, D.C. then?” Steve asked, hoping he wasn’t being too nosey. 

“Visiting a girlfriend,” she responded, taking a quick glance at her watch, “whom I’m going to be late in meeting if I don’t leave now.” Steve sent her off with a goodbye and offered to finish off the heavy-lifting for her. She thanked him once more before running off to grab her keys and head out.

The large man walked back towards the shed where the bags sat and quickly transported them to the edge of the sidewalk. He was still slightly (okay, majorily) peeved at this James guy, so, he decided to confront him; the guy should do his own damn yard work.

Trudging up to the dark maroon door, Steve’s heavy fist knocked impatiently until he heard movement from the other side.

When the door opened to reveal his neighbor, Steve didn’t expect to find a beautifully sculpted man leaning with half of his body in view. His broad shoulders filled out his black wife-beater nicely, giving the impression that this man definitely worked out and that Steve was definitely right. His thick neck connected his fit torso to a sharp, tan jaw line, lined with stubble. His long dark haired outlined his face, framing it so the powder pink color of his lips and the icy blue of his eyes stood out.

Holy shit.

However, the devilishly handsome face didn’t distract Steve’s fuming anger, but fueled the fire knowing he looked perfectly capable of doing his own work.

“Can I help you?” James asked, his face riddled with confusion. ‘Oh God,’ Steve thought, ‘even his voice was attractive.’

The blond’s face hardened and his stance became defensive, “Yes, you can actually.” James continued to stare, moving more into the doorway enabling him to see Steve better. “Over the past eight days, I’ve had to watch that nice girl Rebecca slave over your yard in this 90 degree scorching hot weather.”

“Now,” Steve crossed his arms over his chest, “typically I would mind my own business because she can do whatever the hell she wants because Feminism, but knowing that you are perfectly capable to do the work on your own, considering you’ve done it before and you didn’t help her a lick, pisses me off.” Steve’s rage had blinded him from seeing the dog tags hung around James’ neck or the scarring covering his shoulder leading down to the stump resting where his left arm should be.

James attempted to speak, “Excuse me, sir.” His voice was quiet.

“No, I’m not done,” Steve interrupted, continuing his quick rant. “And another thing. I personally feel you are disrespecting a female, which is not cool at all. Normally, I would drag you into a back alley and beat you up but I feel slightly intimidated by how large your muscles are; so, I just wanted to say pick up your own damn bags and mow your own damn lawn instead of making a one night stand do…”

“Woah! Hey now,” the sexy neighbor yelled, brows furrowing. The eccentric blond stopped rambling, his eyes blazing with a fire from his heart. “She is definitely not a one night stand, man.”

“Ya, then who is she?” Steve questioned, scrunching his nose.

James feistily responded, “She’s my baby sister, you punk! I also don’t appreciate you marching up to my doorstep and screaming at me because I can’t do something that is physically impossible for me!”

They were screaming now.

“And why the hell not?” Steve asked angrily.

The neighbor lifted up his left shoulder to bring attention to it, and for the first time today, Steve noticed the dog tags, the scarring, and the stump.

‘Oh, my God,’ Steve thought. The stump.

The sexy neighbor, with the bulging muscles, pretty eyes, and kind baby sister has a stump and no fucking left arm.

“Oh, no,” Steve said, eyes wide and terrified. “I-I’m so so sorry, hot neighbor man. Shit. Shit-shit-shit, I am sorry. I have seen you do your lawn before and I did something really really stupid. Nat’s gonna kill me.”

“Hey, pal,” James replied, seeing the blond hyperventilate. Steve’s eyes widened in panic as his breathing got shallow; he began grabbing for his throat as it was drying quickly and burning from the roughness. James’ expression matched Steve’s fear, “Shit, pal. Do you have asthma?”

Steve nodded in response; his lungs were burning. James rushed back into his house, leaving a struggling Steve on his porch. Steve watched his neighbor running back to the door and handed him a white inhaler.

James guided the man to the glider on their right and rubbed his back gently until the blond caught his breath. Tears pricked Steve’s eyes, but all he cared about was that he could breathe again.

The presence of James disappeared and reappeared two minutes later when he handed Steve a glass of water. Steve accepted it graciously and he could find his voice again.

“Thank you,” Steve said, regretting his previous words. He’s such a fuck up sometimes.

James sincerely smiled, taking the inhaler from his neighbor, “When I first got back from the war, I had panic attacks and I needed an inhaler, considering I lived alone.”

“I was hoping I would grow out of it,” Steve admitted, grinning back, “but I guess that didn’t happen. It went away when I was in the army, but it comes back sometimes.” It was silent for a few moments before Steve broke the silence again. “I’m sorry about what I said earlier. I didn’t know; I always thought I saw you with both arms. I’m Steve, by the way. You at least deserve to know who accused you of disrespecting women.”

The attractive brunet next to Steve chuckled, “Bucky. My name is actually James Buchanan Barnes, but I definitely prefer Bucky. And don’t worry about the whole arm thing. My prosthetic is being repaired.”

Steve blushed, and then the beautiful eyes of the new acquaintance found his, “I’m sorry about your arm.”

“Ya,” Bucky started, “everyone is.”

Then they parted, bidding one another goodbye. Steve closed his front door gently, then watched Bucky sit on the porch smiling--Steve had the same expression.

 

“You did what?!” Sam asked, gapingly staring at his best friend. His jaw had dropped and he was completely astounded. “Nat is gonna kill you.”

“Fuck me, if I don’t know it,” Steve blurted, covering his red tinted cheeks. He had been having lunch with his army buddy when he let the story slip from his tongue.

Sam began to laugh, squinting his eyes in amusement, “You told an amputee to do his own work? That involves two arms? He’s one armed, Steven Grant.”

“God,” Steve cursed, “I know that now, jerk!”

“I mean,” the dark man’s voice rung, “it’s not like it’s that hard to see that a man doesn’t have an arm.” Sam began to chuckle lowly, letting it flow into a full-on laugh when Steve snorted.

“I couldn’t see his arm,” Steve defended. He was doing that a lot lately.

“Well, that’s kinda what happens when you’re missing an arm,” Sam retorted.

Steve glared at his friend. “Fuck you,” he spat.

Sam’s laugh was cut short when the phone in Steve’s pocket began to blare whatever song he had set as his ringtone at that point. The blond quickly pulled it from his jacket and swiped green, “Hello?”

“You said what to James?!” Nat’s voice screamed through the speaker.

Steve’s eyes widened while looking at Sam; he mouthed “Natasha.”

“Steve!” Nat shouted, daring to pop one of Steve’s ear drums. “I can’t believe you yelled at James to do his own work when he only has one arm!”

“I didn’t know,” he said, “and how the hell did you know about this happening?”

Natasha sighed, then huffed, “He’s a friend of mine. He called me and told me some crazy blond guy began screaming at him for no reason then had an asthma attack.”

Sam began to laugh again, this time letting tears slip from his eyes and causing the attention of the others in the restaurant to cast to the two men. Steve rolled his eyes and responded, “First off: Rude that you would automatically assume it was me. Second, I didn’t notice he only had one arm, Nat.”

“I told you not to do anything stupid,” she hissed, causing Steve to flush red. That’s how the conversation went: Steve flushed a permanent red while explaining himself, Natasha sat and told him how stupid he was, and Sam cried from laughing too hard.

“You know,” Nat started, her tone suddenly changing, “he’s single.”

Steve stopped, brows furrowing, “What does that have to do with me?”

“He just happens to be exactly your type,” the redhead suggested. Again, she was right and Steve knew it, but he left it there.

 

As Steve parked his Harley in his driveway, he looked to the house next door and saw a figure moving in the dark of the night.

“Becca?” Steve asked, coming close to the figure, full on preparing to kick the stranger’s ass. He was pleasantly surprised to find Bucky squatting near the house, patting the flower bed around the roses that his sister had planted. He looked up from his spot on the ground, the porch light catching the scar of his cheek.

“Now,” Bucky’s angelic voice sounded, “I know my hair is long, but give me some credit for my muscles. I work extremely hard to keep this body mass.”

Thankfully, Bucky couldn’t see the pink rising to Steve’s cheek--Steve had definitely noticed his body mass. “Good evening Bucky.”

Steve’s eyes followed Bucky’s form as he pushed himself up from his previous position. That’s when the glint off of the metal arm attached to his left shoulder became apparent. His baby blues must’ve been staring too long because Bucky spoke, “Pretty cool, huh? Hafta have Stark check it out every half a year when he’s in D.C. to make sure there ain’t no bugs.”

“‘s beautiful,” Steve responded, itching to grab a pencil and sketchbook. Something clicked in Steve’s brain, forcing his eyes to meet the man in front of him. “Natasha called.” Bucky’s face twisted in curiousity. “Romanoff. I didn’t know you knew her. She chewed me out.”

The curiosity became a smile, “I didn’t mean for that to happen. I swear I mentioned no names. Sorry ‘bout that, Stevie.”

Steve loved that nickname. “No problem, Buck, she heard blond and asthmatic, then just assumed it was me. And I’m sorry--I mean about yesterday still.”

“Don’t think anything about it,” Buck suggested. “No harm done, right?”

Steve shrugged, moving to get a better view of Bucky’s face. “I want to make it up to you.” God, he was handsome.

“Dinner” Bucky said. “Buy me dinner and we’ll call it even.”

Steve agreed, “It’s a date, then.”

“I mean, you called me hot neighbor man, even when you saw the scarring,” Bucky laughed; Steve blushed. “Wanna go now?”

 

“You’re from Brooklyn?” Steve questioned, shoveling his spaghetti into his mouth.

Bucky swallowed what was in his mouth, “How’d you know?”

“The accent; I’m from Brooklyn, too. I’d recognize that accent anywhere, especially in D.C. I moved here after my fifth tour; I started working at the VA for my buddy Sam,” Steve explained.

Bucky grinned, taking a sip from his wine glass, “I just never moved away after my recovery. I didn’t really know if I could find a place to fit in anymore in New York.”

“You said something earlier,” Steve mentioned, watching Bucky’s face contorted into confusion. “You said how I called you attractive even after I saw the scarring.”

“It tends to,” Bucky stuttered, “It tends to drive people away. Too much baggage, I guess.”

“No,” Steve said quietly, “not for me.” Bucky averted his eyes from where they previously looked at his plate. Steve met the icy blue again. “I think it’s beautiful. It makes you even more handsome. It makes you real. I’d love to draw it sometime, if you’d let me.”

Buck’s smile lit up the room, “Okay, Stevie.”

 

*5 Years Later*

“Do you need any help out here, Stevie?” Buck asked from the doorway of their new house. They had just moved back to Brooklyn, as Steve promised he would be the place that his husband could fit in. It also made it easier for THE Tony Stark to fix his arm.

“Not when you only have one arm, love,” Steve dispelled, carrying the last bag of grass to the curb. “You can, however, get the table set. Stark’s gonna be here in a while with your arm and I invited him to dinner.” Just as he finished his sentence, Nat and Sam pulled into their driveway, holding a housewarming present for Steve and Bucky, as well as their two month old daugher, Nicolet.

Bucky’s eyes lit up as he made his way down the stairs and to the child in Sam’s arms.

“Gimme!” he exclaimed, swooping the child up with his arm and cuddling it close to his chest. Nicolet opened her eyes and curved her mouth up slightly, snuggling closer.

“Hello to you too, Barnes,” Nat snorted, moving around him.

Sam chuckled and went to greet Steve with a hug, “When are you gonna get him one of his own?”

Steve laughed and whispered lowly, “Our appointment is tomorrow. He thinks we’re getting lunch in Manhattan.” Sam congratulated him with a pat on the back; they had been approved by the agency after four failed attempts and Buck had been getting depressed that they’d never get to adopt a child of their own.

Nat came near with a hand on one hip, “He’ll be a great father. You’re welcome, by the way.”

Both Steve and Sam made a face at her as she just admired her best friend talk sweetly to his god-daughter, “You really thought after all these years I didn’t know he was your neighbor? You were taking too long to talk to him and I knew you tend to do something stupid if I tell you not to.”

Sam chuckled and Steve wanted to scold her, but he couldn’t find it in his heart to do such a thing. For all he knows, he might’ve never went next door to meet the love of his life if it wasn’t for yelling at an amputee to do his own heavy lifting.

He should be falling to his knees in appreciation that she brought him and Bucky together. Steve had the most beautiful man on his arm, and Steve proved that when he was offered a gallery gig for his art in Brooklyn and the second piece Steve did of Bucky (the first was hanging in their room) sold for the price of $50,000 (it was a painting of Bucky with his arm on full view; there was a bidding war for it). However, Steve always argued that he could never put a price on Bucky’s beauty.

Steve was grateful for Bucky. And although he still apologizes for the one mishap that brought them together, he would never apologize for it happening. Because of his stupidity, he met his true love: The one who tells Steve everyday how much he’s changed his life, and the one Steve will spend a lifetime proving that it was actually James Buchanan Barnes, his neighbor with a metal arm, that changed his.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! So I really want to do some spin-off one-shots from this fic (like the four failed adoption attempts made by Stucky and their actual adoption of their new child. Also, the painting of Bucky and their reactions to the bidding war.) If you would be interested in reading any of those, or you would like to see something else elaborated from the fic, PLEASE PLEASE comment <3  
> Thank you again.
> 
> ~winterschild


End file.
